Structure
by HeroicVal-Rye
Summary: Alfred thinks his life is about to change for the better on his nineteenth birthday, the day he receives his UPP, a life from the past that will mentor him in its previous job. He never expected becoming an author, and he certainly didn't think he would fall in love. USUK
1. Chapter 1

Today was the day Alfred had been waiting for. Today was July 4, 2135, the day of Alfred's nineteenth birthday. Today was the day Alfred would receive the Uploaded Past Personality that would become his lifelong companion.

Alfred was personally sick of waiting. All of his friends had already gotten their UPPs last year. Feliciano had gotten a UPP from 1915, a chef by the name of Lovino. He had died in some sort of war. Kiku had gotten one from thousands of years ago, named Yao Wang. He had been a philosopher. Personally, Alfred thought that Ludwig's UPP was the coolest, although Ludwig disagreed. His UPP was called Gilbert, a soldier who had died during the collapse of an old country. Gilbert had apparently loved alcohol, and claimed to be the awesomest person in the world. Alfred had started hanging out with Ludwig more just so that he could listen to Gilbert's stories and play video games with him.

But now it was Alfred's turn, and he wondered what kind of UPP he would get as he walked up the steps to the Adult Registration Facility. The imposing building, scraping up against the sky with its sharp Gothic spires, had always intimidated Alfred, but also seemed like a beacon of hope to him. This impression fit his mood as he slipped through the glass doors and sat in the waiting room.

Five hours later, he left the building severely disappointed.

His UPP was lame. Arthur Kirkland, a British author from 2012, was his companion for life. The first second Alfred had laid eyes on him, he hated the bushy-browed hologram. And now they were stuck together until Alfred died. They hadn't even spoken yet.

As Alfred walked home through the brightly lit streets, he watched Arthur follow out of the corner of his eye. The guy looked depressed that he'd gotten a kid who was so different from him. Well, Alfred wasn't happy either. He unlocked his front door and slipped inside his home, almost forgetting to keep the door open for Arthur. Alfred smiled sheepishly. "Sorry I almost closed the door on you, man. I'm not used to having a UPP with me."

Arthur only grunted and swept his emerald eyes across Alfred's living room, a small room with a comfortable couch, a little coffee table, and a meager wall-sized TV. After all, Alfred lived alone. He didn't have money to throw around.

Alfred had hoped that his financial situation would change with the entrance of a UPP's presence and help in his life, but now he was doomed to be an author. Not a sports star, a soldier, or a superhero like he'd hoped for. An author. Alfred could barely come up with a pseudonym, let alone spell the word. He was going to be poor forever. Alfred sighed and collapsed onto the couch, looking up at the ceiling.

Arthur cleared his throat, drawing Alfred's attention to him. "Well, we haven't really been properly introduced," he began, his English accent strange on Alfred's ears. "I'm Arthur Kirkland, an author who lived from 1966 to 2020. Perhaps you've read one of my books?" Arthur paused, waiting for an answer. Finding none forthcoming, he continued. "Er, you are my first assignment, to be truthful, so I'm not entirely sure how to go on… I'm sure you'll become a wonderful author, despite that. And you are?"

Realizing that he would have to speak, Alfred sat up. "Uh, I'm Alfred Jones, and books aren't my thing, so I don't know how this is gonna work out. I kind of wanted to be something… I dunno, more fun."

Arthur huffed in annoyance. "More fun? There is nothing, in my opinion, more fun than creating new worlds for others to enjoy."

"Yeah, and I'd rather be fighting crime in spandex."

Arthur looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, an annoyed expression on his face. "Superheroes aren't real. "

"Well, the stuff in half the books that exist isn't, either."

"But superheroes are just silly!" Arthur exclaimed.

"And what you wrote isn't silly?"

Arthur paused. "So you're familiar with my works?"

"Yeah, my girlfriend made me read them."

"And? What did you think?"

Alfred couldn't believe it. His entire future was in jeopardy and the man who had destroyed his life was asking Alfred's opinion on his books. He decided to make these thoughts known.

"You're kidding, right? My entire life just went down the drain and you want me to tell you what I thought of your sappy, lovey-dovey fairy tales? Honestly, I thought they were shit. Romance novels aren't my thing, and neither are prancing unicorns and tiny little men in funny hats." Alfred stood up at this point, determined to make his views heard. "I don't want to be an out-of-work bum who writes about a different world because I can't make the one I live in better. I want to make this world a better place, not hide away in some magical land of rainbows and gumdrops."

Arthur stood there, speechless. He opened his mouth to retort, then closed it again. He looked utterly defeated, and Alfred almost regretted his words. Arthur looked down at his feet. "I…didn't know you felt that way. I'm sorry you got stuck with me."

And then Alfred did regret it. Arthur had done nothing to him, nothing at all, and Alfred had just told him that his life's work was worth less than the dirt under his shoes, and that he had never contributed to the world. Truth be told, Alfred probably would've never gotten his girlfriend if it hadn't been for Arthur's books.

Alfred walked over to Arthur and put a hand on his shoulder. Since Arthur wasn't a real person anymore, Alfred felt nothing, but his hand wouldn't pass through Arthur's image. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just…" He sighed heavily. "I just wanted to do something different with my life. You did make the world a better place, at least for me."

Arthur looked up at Alfred, eyes hard. "I thought you said you didn't enjoy my 'sappy, lovey-dovey fairy tales'," he spat, his voice cold.

"I didn't, but that doesn't mean they didn't change the way my life worked out," Alfred replied.

"Do tell," Arthur snapped.

"You actually got my girlfriend and me together. See, we were just friends before. We were pretty good friends, but we didn't know all sorts of stuff we know about each other now. So one day, I think it was a Monday, we decided to go the library. Not the free digital library, but the real, physical, pay-to-get-in library with real books made of real pages made from real trees.

"So we paid our ten dollars to get in. And Alice – that's my girlfriend – decided that it would be a good idea to read each other's favorite books, as a sort of bonding exercise. So I gave her my favorite comic books, and she gave me one of your books. 'Requiem of Dawn', that was it. And when I got to the fifth chapter, I saw a little post-it note that she had slipped in, asking me to go out with her. And I did." Alfred paused, his story finished, but feeling that the ending was lame. "So you see, you did change the world. Not in the way I want to change the world, but it's still important."

Arthur's gaze had softened throughout the story. "I suppose I accept your apology, then," he said, offering his hand. "So, we should start over. I'm Arthur Kirkland."

Alfred smiled and shook his hand. "Alfred Jones."

Arthur returned the smile before drawing his hand back. "So I've gathered that you don't like reading particularly. What do you enjoy?"

"Uh, well, I like sports," Alfred offered. "I work out a lot."

"Perhaps you'd like to write sports biographies?"

Alfred grimaced. "Ew, no way. Biographies are lame."

"I see… What else do you like doing?"

"I draw in my spare time. Wanna see?" Alfred asked excitedly. He didn't just draw in his spare time. He drew whenever he could. Penning his own comics was his livelihood, more than being the best football player. His only problem was that he could never write a good story to go with his illustrations. Alfred grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled him upstairs to his room. Throwing open the door, he let the Brit view his room in all its glory.

Sketches were strewn all over the floor and covered the drawing desk, where several colored in drawings were laid out. Posters of comic-book superheroes adorned the walls. Comics open to various pages lay about on the floor. Even the sheets of Alfred's bed had Captain America on them. Alfred led Arthur over to his desk and proudly showed him his completed drawings. "Well? What do you think?"

Arthur picked up a drawing of one of Alfred's original characters and inspected it. "They're quite good, actually. I expected them to be childish, but… these look almost professional. They have a nice style to them."

Alfred glowed. "You really think so?" he asked, beaming widely.

"I really do." Arthur held the drawing up to Alfred. "This is a character you made up, right? What's his name?"

"His name's Freedom Fire! He was born with deformed legs that had to be amputated below the knees, so he wears prosthetic Cheetah blades! He entered in a special radiation treatment program that went wrong, so he can summon flames, and he can run really fast, but he had to keep replacing his prosthetics 'cause he keeps melting them."

"Interesting," Arthur murmured, putting the drawing down. "Do you have any completed comic books yet?"

Alfred's smile faltered. "Well, I haven't actually ever finished any… I've started a lot, but they never really seemed to be going anywhere. I have trouble writing the plotline, so they just slowly deteriorate until I don't like the comic anymore."

By contrast, Arthur's smile seemed to grow larger by the second. "Alfred," he whispered. "I have a fantastic idea that I think you'll love."

"What is it?" Alfred implored, desperate for a different fate.

"You know how to draw, yes?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"And I am an author."

"Right…"

"I don't know how to draw, and you can't write plots."

"Uh-huh."

"So, how about I teach you how to write your own stories, and you use your own artistic ability to create comics? With my help, you'll have the most well-written comics in the country."

Alfred's eyes went wide. "That is the best idea I have ever heard in my entire life."

Arthur smiled, seemingly pleased with how this was working out. "Shall we start, then?"

"Already? Well, I guess it's never too early." Alfred pulled out his laptop.

"So, begin by writing a short paragraph about Freedom Fire…"


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Oh my god I got a review and it was a beautiful review and it warmed my heart and I just oaherioauroiaure. I had no inspiration whatsoever to continue this story, and then I just read that review and I actually managed to hurt myself while I was spasming from joy. My friend, who was watching me over a skype videochat, says she was extremely concerned. I couldn't tell that she was, since she was laughing hysterically. **

**Thank you, Eurlenette, foreversnowynights, and Thieves of the Sea for following, and thank you thank you thank you THANK YOU Thieves of the Sea for your awesome review! :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD**

**I'm sorry that this chapter is short. Next one will be longer, I promise!**

* * *

Five months had passed, and Arthur still couldn't believe that Alfred had only published the first volume of his comic book. Alfred had insisted that he perfect everything before he put it out to the public. That had been a week ago. Now, Alfred was furiously finishing the last panels of the next volume while Arthur sat and watched.

Arthur didn't like being sentimental, but he couldn't help it. When he was bored, his mind would drift off, usually to his previous life. It hadn't been bad, serving tables by day and writing by night. Unfortunately, his fame came after he had already died of cancer at the relatively young age of fifty-four. He was glad that the youth of this day were still enjoying his books, however.

Today, however, he was thinking about his first encounter with Alfred Jones, eight months previously. He had been surprised that they had been able to reconcile so quickly after such harsh words had been exchanged. Arthur vaguely remembered being told that UPPs and their charges were matched together in such a way that their personalities and abilities would be able to work together to benefit society. He supposed that was why they had gotten along so quickly, but he still thought that it was almost unnatural, the way they both seemed to understand each other.

That brought him to his next train of thought. Before being sent out of cyberspace to the physical world, he had been warned of UPPs that had become too attached to their charges and were unable to move on when their charges had died. Despite the fact that all humans would eventually become Uploaded Past Personalities themselves, something in their caretakers would snap if too attached, and both of them would disappear into oblivion. That fact was what scared Arthur most. Their very first encounter seemed to spell disaster, although Alfred was blissfully unaware.

Alfred was also blissfully unaware of the fact that Arthur was starting to harbor feelings for him. Feelings that were extremely taboo, since Arthur was dead.

Arthur snapped out of his thoughts when he heard his name being called. "Yes, Alfred?"

"Just wanted your opinion on the last page here." He held up the super-enlarged version of what would become the last page of Freedom Fire: Volume Two. "See, there's a cliffhanger here, 'cause Crimson is slowly walking toward Fire, and Fire's melted his prosthetics so he can't move, and there's a big 'To be Continued!" at the end! Is it good?"

Arthur smiled. "It follows the layout of the plot perfectly, and the art looks fantastic, as per usual. I think you've done a fine job, lad."

Alfred beamed. "Thanks, Artie! Let's go get these to the publisher!" He rolled all of his huge pages up and put them in a cylindrical container, then grabbed Arthur's hand and dragged him out of the house. Arthur stumbled, barely able to keep up with the enthusiastic American. Arthur's protests seemed to be unheard by Alfred, and really, Arthur didn't mind being dragged along too much. It reminded him of being alive.

After spending an hour at the publisher's office, the two of them walked out onto the snowy December street. Alfred was babbling on about how awesome the new volume was going to be, and how he watched a small fanbase grow larger over the internet. Arthur only half-listened, having heard the exact same conversation the last time they had been here, but there was a small smile on his face. Despite having heard it all before, Alfred's radiant, undying joy always managed to make Arthur smile.

"And it's all thanks to you!" Alfred finished, beaming at Arthur and draping an arm amicably around his shoulders. Arthur turned away, hiding the blush that colored his face.

"Well, thank you, that's very kind."

"It's only true!" Alfred paused, looking intently at Arthur's face. "Hey, Artie. Do you breathe?"

"Out of force of habit, yes. Why?"

"Your breath doesn't make any fog."

Arthur frowned, having never noticed this. He exhaled and noticed that Alfred was right. Despite the fact that there was snow all around them and the temperature was freezing, Arthur's breath made no change to the air around him. In fact, Arthur didn't feel cold at all, even though he was wearing casual clothing, unlike the bundled up American beside him. "Maybe it's because I'm just a sequence of zeros and ones," Arthur reasoned.

"I guess so."

They continued walking in silence. Alfred seemed to be watching the snow falling, occasionally trying to catch a snowflake on his tongue. Arthur, meanwhile, was once again contemplating his emotions, feeling more than ever that he had to distance himself from Alfred before they both ended up permanently dead.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Ajeoruarou I'm sorry this is so late! FORGIVE ME, BEAUTIFUL FOLLOWERS. I'm not going to waste your time with a really long Author's Note, so if you want to read the explanation for my lateness and my thanks to the people who reviewed, it'll be at the bottom. Now, enjoy!**

Alfred woke up the next morning to the obnoxious sound of his cell phone ringing. He muttered curses under his breath while pushing himself upright. His hand groped across the nightstand, searching for his glasses and the source of music and infinite misery. After his glasses were securely on the bridge of his nose, he checked the caller ID. _Ludwig._

"Ludwig, I get that you're an early riser, but this is completely ridiculous," Alfred complained. "I mean, it's… Uh…" _Jeez, what time is it, anyway?_ "It's stupid o'clock in the morning. Normal people are asleep right now."

"Actually, Alfred, it's five o'clock," Ludwig's deep voice rumbled across the line.

"Same thing!"

Alfred could practically hear Ludwig roll his eyes. "Anyway, I'm inviting you and Arthur to come with me, Gilbert, Feliciano, and Lovino to an old shipyard."

Alfred looked skeptically at the phone. "What kind of shipyard?"

"The old naval shipyard downtown. They say it's haunted." Ludwig paused. "You aren't scared, are you?"

"Haha, s-scared? 'Course not! Heroes are never scared!"

"Good. Meet us in the park at nine." Click. Ludwig hung up.

Alfred stared at the phone, regretting this entire morning. He was stuck going to a haunted shipyard. _Haunted means ghosts. Fan-freaking-tastic._

Alfred was pulled out of his reverie by the sound of slow, pounding footfalls. The blood instantly rushed from his face. He had seen this all before in an old horror game. First, there were footsteps. Then, scary chase music started playing. The door would get knocked down and, ready or not, the monster wanted your flesh.

Alfred took a few deep breaths, telling himself that he was hearing things, he was tired, it was five in the morning and the house was old. There were no footsteps or ghosts or anything. He relaxed, almost enjoying the steadiness of what had seemed like footfalls and now was obviously just old house noises.

The doorknob started shaking.

Alfred skittered back on his hands and feet, cursing himself for letting his guard down. His eyes flew across the room, searching for some kind of weapon or, better, a good hiding place.

_The closet. Yes._

Just as he was about to make a run for safety, the door opened. Alfred flipped backward and slammed his head against the nightstand. _Shit! I'm so screwed…_

"Alfred!" a familiar English voice yelped. A strange force helped him sit up. "What happened? I heard you talking, and I decided to see what was happening, and I came in here and you were on the ground… Was there a robber?"

Alfred rubbed the back of his head, where a lump was forming. He blinked blearily until Arthur's face swam into view. "I, uh… Do you wanna meet up with some friends and go to the old navy shipyard?"

Arthur blinked in surprise. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm totally fine. Answer the question."

"Er, I suppose… Now it's your turn to answer my question. What happened?"

Alfred flushed. "N-nothing. Nothing at all. Totally cool. Just was surprised, is all."

Arthur stared blankly at Alfred.

"Fine, I'll tell you! Just don't laugh, okay? You have to promise."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, I promise I won't laugh."

"Okay." Alfred took a deep breath. "I was freaking out because I thought you were a ghost or something for a minute."

"Alfred, I _am _a ghost."

"That's different!" Alfred wasn't getting defensive. Not one bit. "Like, you're a nice, not evil, cool, computer ghost. I'm scared of the ghosts that want to haunt me and murder me in the woods at night."

"I already haunt you; how do you know that I don't want to kill you?"

Alfred's eyes widened. "Do you?"

Arthur smiled softly. "Of course not. I am rather fond of you."

"Aw, really?" Alfred relaxed, letting his perma-grin return. "Well, I really like you, too. We're totally awesome best friends forever!"

"Yes… Best friends." For some reason unknown to Alfred, Arthur turned away, an unreadable expression on his face.

The perma-grin vanished and was replaced with a small frown. "You okay?"

Arthur's head snapped up. "Yes, I'm fine. I… I merely didn't have many friends in my life."

Alfred gasped. "That's so sad!" He took the other's hand in his own. "Well, I'll stick with you for the rest of my life! We'll always be best friends, no matter what! You can count on me!"

* * *

Alfred really wanted to go back to Ludwig's car. It was nice and warm in there, and it had awesome speakers, and the electromagnets were brand new and made the car float through the air like a cloud. Out here, it was cold, creepy, and probably full of ghosts. Also, it smelled strongly of mildew.

"Ve… Ludwig, I wanna go home!" Feliciano wailed. "It's scary here!"

Ludwig sighed. "It's not that bad."

"It's actually rather peaceful here," Arthur agreed. Alfred stared at the Brit, confounded that "peaceful" was the word he had chosen. Alfred thought it was more along the lines of "horrible" or "gross".

"Right, Lutz, you said something about splitting up into groups?" Gilbert asked his charge.

"Wait, what? Split up? Do you have a death wish?" Lovino interrupted. "Well, if we have to, I don't want to be with Potato Bastard."

"Ludwig, Ludwig, can I go with you? Please?" Feliciano begged, clinging to the German's side.

Ludwig rested two fingers on the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes in exasperation. "Ja, we'll be a group."

"I wanna stay with Arthur!" Alfred chimed in.

"I'm fine with this arrangement," Arthur said.

"Well, I'm not!" roared Lovino. "I'm stuck with creepy red-eye Potato Bastard!"

"It's either that or alone!" Gilbert cackled. Lovino paled rapidly before grumbling into submission.

"Alfred, your group will go to the first floor of the west wing. Lovino, your group can go on the second floor of the west wing."

"Wait, why does he get to be group leader?" Gilbert whined.

Ludwig ignored him. "Feli and I will go to the east wing. We each will find something interesting and take a picture of it to show the others."

"Yes, sir!" Alfred turned his heel on the group, not bothering to listen to the rest of whatever Ludwig was saying. Now that Arthur was with him, he wasn't scared at all. He sort of understood what Arthur had meant when he said that it was peaceful. Alfred turned to tell Arthur this and was astonished to find that he was alone.

Alfred looked around for a few minutes, wondering where Arthur could have gone. He shrugged, not really caring. Now that he had reached this peaceful state, it wasn't leaving him. His only worry was that Arthur might be in trouble, but since he didn't hear any yelling, he figured that Arthur had gone in some other direction. He continued on his merry way, figuring that as long as they stayed in the same wing they would meet up eventually.

Alfred looked around the decrepit hallways. The walls were covered in graffiti, and there were strange rock formations every here and there. He snapped pictures at the particularly interesting specimens of each of these. Every now and then he would hear an angry Italian accent and figured that Gilbert was messing with Lovino.

He wandered for a little while longer before deciding to rest for a bit. Alfred looked around for a minute and found a dry, comfortable spot. He leaned against the wall, listening to the latest screeches of fear and annoyance from Lovino. It took about a minute for Alfred to realize that the yells were coming from directly above him. How dandy.

There was a rumble and a few pebbles rained down on Alfred's head. Alfred glared up at the ceiling, where the volume of the yells had increased and a German accent had joined the Italian one.

"Alfred!"

The aforementioned American spun his head in the direction of the shout. "Arthur? S'that you?"

"Yes, it bloody is me!" Arthur stormed into view, his face red and his eyebrows drawn tightly together. "I've been looking for you for two hours, git!"

_Two hours?_ "Hey, don't blame me! You were the one that disappeared!"

Arthur's voice became deadly cold. "I was the one who disappeared?" Alfred suddenly realized that Arthur was about to explode, but he didn't realize how until it was too late. A sudden force that Alfred recognized as Arthur's fist slammed into his jaw, dislocating it and sending him sprawling. "You left before telling me where you were going! I tried to find you and I couldn't! I was worried sick, running all over the wing, and meanwhile you were here napping!"

Alfred blinked, in a daze. He put a hand to his jaw, wincing when he felt a bruise forming. He gently pushed his jaw back into place, flinching at the sound of his bones scraping. Alfred looked up at Arthur, alarmed to see how close the man was the breaking into tears. He pushed himself up so that he was standing and hugged Arthur, startling the smaller man. "I didn't realize. I… Well, I'm sorry," he offered. "I guess I wasn't really thinking."

Arthur sighed, half-heartedly pushing Alfred away. "You're like a child. A child that needs to be constantly watched."

Alfred smiled sheepishly.

"How in god's name am I supposed to guide you through life if I can't even keep track of you?"

"We should get some kind of thing that tells us where the other is," Alfred suggested. "Like a GPS, or whatever."

"That's…not a bad idea," Arthur said thoughtfully.

Alfred smiled, glad that Arthur seemed to have forgiven him and also didn't think he was a complete idiot. "You really think so?"

Arthur tentatively returned the smile. "I really do."

Arthur's smile faded slightly when another cluster of pebbles fell on Alfred. "You should probably get out from under there," Arthur warned.

"Yeah, I think you're right." Alfred brushed some of the dust on him off.

"And another thing, you beer-guzzling country bumpkin, I'll have you know that –" _CRACK_.

Alfred looked up just in time to see the ceiling and Lovino fall on top of him.

**AN: DUN DUN DUN CLIFFHANGER IS HE GONNA LIVE OR IS HE GONNA DIE? I think we all know the answer. Anyway. Why was I so late, you ask? Well, the answer is quite simple. I started high school. This is a really big transition for me, and my workload has kind of quadrupled as a result (even though the rest of high school is really fun .). So I've spent a lot of time studying and doing homework. This chapter was actually written in my English notes because I couldn't find any other time to write it. As I start getting into the swing of things, though, the updates will be more regular.**

**Another reason why I didn't update though... It's kind of a stupid reason. I got flooded with reviews after I posted the second chapter, and at first I was all, "OH MY GOD PEOPLE LIKE MY STORY HAOERUAIUTIROH" and in my intense fangirling I actually managed to give myself a whole bunch of bruises because I accidentally slammed myself against every sharp corner in my room. After that, though... I realized that this meant that a whole bunch of people like my story, and they think it's really good and has a lot of potential. At this point, an irrational fear of messing up overtook me, so I kind of procrastinated. A lot.**

**But enough about me! Thanks to Eurlenette, therandomnessthatiam, Thieves of the Sea, beastie, and Teenage Mouse for your awesome, wonderful, and kind reviews! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! You guys have given me a whole bunch of inspiration, and you are all awesome!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Aefoahrioaur I am so so so so so so so so sorry about the really long time this took to update aoeruioaur i'm really sorry please don't hit me**

**Once again my full explanation as to why I didn't update will be at the bottom. (Excuses, excuses, you say, but I have a good reason!)**

**Although now I get to accuse you guys, my faithful readers. I love you, yes, but why didn't any of you remind me to put a disclaimer? Silly followers. This is why you need to review. So, I don't own Hetalia. I am not worthy.**

* * *

Arthur watched Alfred's peaceful face as the American slept. His eyes followed the path of the IV to the bag of water and nutrients. He gazed at the mask forcing oxygen into Alfred's injured lungs. His stare ended at the cast enclosing Alfred's entire right leg.

It wasn't difficult for Arthur to keep from dwelling on the accident. Most of it was a blur anyway. All he remembered was Ludwig straining to lift the heavy concrete ceiling and an extremely tense car ride to the ER. He had heard that Lovino had been sent back to the Adult Registration Facility to be repaired and Gilbert was being retired. Arthur didn't want to know what being "retired" meant.

Alfred gave a small cough, his eyes cracking open. "Hey, Artie," he greeted weakly, his oxygen mask distorting his voice somewhat. "What'd I miss?"

"Not much, really. I've been watching the news for you." Arthur gestured to the small TV in the corner of the hospital room. "The politicians are lying, the Republic of Earth remains steadfast in its neutrality, and the sports teams are complaining about bad referees."

"Did, uh… did Alice swing by?"

Arthur frowned. "I'm afraid not."

"Oh. That's… uh. That's cool."

The Brit's frown deepened. "You're hurt, aren't you?"

"Well, duh. I'm in the hospital."

"You know what I mean."

"I'm fine. Nothing's wrong."

Arthur sighed and placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder, wishing he could truly comfort the younger man with a human-like heat. "You're upset."

"Only a little."

"Alfred…"

"Okay, okay, I'll spill!" Alfred coughed and continued. "Alice and I had a fight, ya know? Like normal couples do. Nothing big. She was just pissed because I was spending a lot of time making comics and money, so that we could get married or something, and not enough time with her." He gave a small sigh. "I didn't think she'd take a little fight like that so seriously."

Arthur looked at the wall, letting the information sink in. "It's rather extreme of her, to take such an insignificant fight seriously enough that she won't visit you when you're gravely injured. Hypocritical, even."

"Mm." Alfred closed his eyes. "Art, I'm hungry."

"I'll see if I can get you something to eat." Arthur stood up to leave.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, love?"

Alfred cracked an eye open. "Are they gonna have to amputate my leg, like they did with Freedom Fire?"

Arthur smiled. "Of course not." He slipped out of the room, deciding not to mention the uncertain future of the American's lungs.

* * *

**WHOP WOW WHAT A HORRIBLE CHAPTER. IT'S SO FREAKISHLY SHORT AND STUPID. AOFUEIORU. BUT IT'S OKAY BECAUSE I'VE ALREADY WRITTEN THE NEXT CHAPTER AND IT WILL BE UPLOADED TOMORROW HURRAY!**

**Okay. So. There are a few reasons as to why I didn't update for so long. It's not that I didn't know what I wanted to happen. I did. But the first draft that I wrote of this was NOTHING LIKE THIS BECAUSE I HATED IT. This is, like, the seventh revision. It's all gonna lead to the same place, don't worry. Just... It needed to be done right, this chapter. And I don't feel like I did it right, but it's better than the first draft. That was terrible and bluh and, as previously mentioned, I hated it. The other reason I didn't update is because high school hit me like a brick. My grades have started to slip through my fingers, so I'm stressing out trying to keep a good average. CURSE YOU, AP CLASSES. ****_CURSE YOU_****. **

**So anyway, time to thank the reviewers. Thank you Eurlenette, hexa, EuterpeDream, Thieves of the Sea, Tragos, and someone who I am guessing is Haley for reviewing! You guys are awesome and I LOVE YOU. ALL OF YOU. I HOPE YOU'RE FEELING THE LOVE.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I PROMISED YOU A NEW CHAPTER TO DAY. LO AND BEHOLD, THERE IS A NEW CHAPTER TODAY. I MAY BE A DISORGANIZED MESS, BUT YOU CAN'T SAY THAT I DON'T KEEP MY PROMISES.**

**I don't own Hetalia. I am unworthy.**

* * *

After Arthur left, Alfred closed his eyes again. He couldn't really see anyway; his glasses had broken in the accident.

The air was forced into his lungs by a mask covering his nose and mouth. He was grateful that it was keeping him alive, but it hurt him. His lungs simply didn't want to expand. It was as if the concrete that had fallen on him was still there, still trying to kill him. Alfred supposed it was only natural that he hand some broken ribs, but he hadn't seen or felt and cast around his chest. Then again, he had no idea how to bandage a cut. Maybe there weren't any casts involve in rib-healing.

Alfred realized that he was seriously getting bored if he was thinking about how to fix ribs. His mind wandered back to earlier. Alfred had a lot of pet names for Arthur, but he had never heard the stuffy Brit use one on Alfred. Especially not one like 'love'. Alfred mentally shrugged.

There was no way to continue this train of thought, so Alfred opened his eyes and turned his attention to his hospital room TV.

"The Federation of Andromeda has now declared war on four neutral systems," the reporter droned. "Other systems already locked in comeback with Andromeda have pledged to aid these systems, but experts say that there is little to no hope for those standing against the Federation. Undisclosed sources tell us that they have more men and better weapons than previously anticipated. In response to these new developments, the Republic of Earth has declared a state of emergency and reaffirmed all alliances within the system. There are talks of a draft…"

"That doesn't sound very neutral," Alfred murmured. He sighed, trying to find a less depressing way to occupy his attention.

Just as Alfred's eyes began to scan the room, his cell phone rang. He reached out for it, hissing in discomfort, and brought his phone to his ear. He didn't bother to check caller I.D. "Hello?"

"Alfred."

"Alice!" Alfred's face split into a wide smile. _This is great. Alice is gonna tell me that she got stuck in traffic and she's on her way here, and everything's gonna be fine. _"Where've you been? How come you didn't visit?"

"Alfred, I can't do this anymore."

"What, being a fashion designer? You totally shouldn't give up! Your ideas are fantastic –"

"I mean us, Al."

Alfred said nothing. His throat had suddenly run very dry.

"You're a great guy, don't get me wrong. I really have enjoyed our relationship. But you're just too… too adventurous. Too daring. You're going to end up killing yourself if you keep going on like this. This accident… I know that there will be more accidents, and they'll just get worse and worse. I won't be able to stand it if you… if you die. I'm sorry, Alfred, but you do see why it has to be like this, don't you?"

Alfred's throat burned. He said nothing.

Alice sighed. "Goodbye, Alfred."

Click.

_Don't cry. Don't you fucking dare cry, Jones._

Alfred bit his lower lip, squeezing his eyes shut. His phone slipped out of his hand and landed on his pillow.

_C'mon, Jones, you're a hero. Heroes don't cry._

He hadn't thought a break-up would hurt so much.

_Pull it together._

The structure of his life was disintegrating before his very eyes.

_Hold it together, kid. It's not that bad._

It hurt more than his lungs.

_Don't let a single tear escape you, Jones, or I swear –!"_

"Alfred, are you alright? Do you need painkillers?"

Alfred let go of his breath and realized he had been so busy trying not to fall apart that he had.

"Alfred. Alfred, can you hear me?"

"Y-yeah, I hear you fine." _Jeez, I sound like a frog or something. Croak, croak._

"What's wrong?"

"She, uh. She broke up with me."

"Oh. _Oh._"

"I need a hug."

Arthur swooped down and wrapped his arms around Alfred, squeezing gently. The American rested his head against Arthur, closing his eyes, and dreamed of a better world.

* * *

**So I liked this chapter a lot more than the last one. The last one was pretty shitty. I'm sorry. I tried. Please note that the last chapter was written during math class. Of course it's going to be shitty. I was trying to concentrate on USUK and radicals at the same time.**

**BUT YEAH SO ALFIE IS SAD. POOR ALFIE. LET'S ALL CRY TOGETHER.**

**Thank you to my awesome friend Kate for beta-ing this chapter. AND I CAN'T THANK ANY REVIEWERS FOR THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER BECAUSE NO ONE REVIEWED YOU GUYS ARE MEAN. But I love you anyway.**

**I'll have the next chapter uploaded either tomorrow or Friday. Until then, enjoy sad Alfred feels.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Whoops here's another chapter.**

**I don't own Hetalia. The stars are not in position for that to be so.**

* * *

Alfred had been discharged from the hospital after twelve days. The doctors described his swift recovery as "nothing short of miraculous". This allowed Alfred's currently fragile ego to begin its own recovery.

Alfred still had a cast on his leg. He still needed to go get his lungs checked every month. But before Arthur's eyes, Alfred shed his emotional collapse like a coat. Each day, he grew more confident.

For the duration of his stay in the hospital, Alfred had fretted about not releasing a new issue of his comic book that week. He was concerned that his fans would be disappointed. However, it seemed that his fanbase had grown during his absence, cheering him greatly.

On the first day Alfred was home, he and Arthur had moved the American's workspace downstairs so that he didn't need to stumble down the stairs when he wanted a snack. He moved his blankets and pillow into the spare downstairs bedroom that Arthur haunted at night. This was all completed at the expense of the living room, which had been coated in drawings, comics, and memorabilia. Arthur didn't really mind, though.

Three days after Alfred had been discharged, Arthur was left to himself while Alfred threw himself into work. The Brit knew that this was a result of Alfred's long absence and his emotional trauma, which he was coping with through distraction. Arthur noted that it seemed to be working very well; Alfred hadn't shown any signs of distress and seemed to be rather comfortable and cheerful. Arthur couldn't help but wonder if the boy had been through similar pain before.

Unfortunately, Arthur was unable to distract himself from his own thoughts. There was no way he could deny it any longer. Arthur had fallen head-over-heels for the young comic book artist. Alfred's accident had only reinforced this idea in Arthur's mind – he didn't want to imagine an existence without Alfred.

Arthur may have fessed up to himself, but he undoubtedly wasn't telling Alfred. After all, the man had been hurt enough. A relationship between them could only lead to more pain. Arthur sighed. Life truly hadn't seemed to work out for him the way he had wanted it to, and now even his afterlife was going down the drain.

Arthur was thrust out of his thoughts by the sound of the doorbell.

"I'll get it," Alfred called.

"Are you sure it's not too much trouble?"

"Nah, it's fine. I got this." Alfred pushed his wheelchair forward to the front door while Arthur watched from his seat in the living room. Alfred opened the door to reveal a small boy of about seven years of age, wearing an oversized backpack and a toothy grin.

"Hello, mister," the boy said. He had a small lisp. "Is this a comic book store? I saw comics through the window." The boy blinked. "Wait, are you Alfred Jones, the guy who made the Freedom Fire comics?"

Arthur smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, that's me."

The boy gasped. "You're my hero!"

Alfred's grin grew. "Woah, seriously?" Arthur could nearly see Alfred's heart swell with pride.

"Yeah, really! Can I have your autograph?" The boy took what appeared to be a sketchbook and a Sharpie out of his backpack and held them out to Alfred. Alfred took the marker and book, still grinning.

"What's your name?"

"Todd Harmon, sir."

Alfred scribbled on the cover, then handed the book back to Todd. "Here ya go!"

"Thanks, Mr. Jones!" Todd gave Alfred another toothy grin. "Can I come visit some time?"

Alfred nodded. "But make sure your mom is cool with it, okay?"

"Okay!" Todd put his backpack on and began to walk away. "See you!"

Alfred gave one last parting smile and closed the door. He wheeled himself back into the living room with a huge grin plastered on his face.

"Well, that certainly cheered you up," Arthur commented. To tell the truth, it was an understatement. Alfred seemed – well, he seemed perfectly back to normal.

Alfred looked out the window at Todd's retreated form. "I had almost thought there was no one left who loved me. I guess I was wrong, huh?"

"You were. I love you," Arthur said. Alfred turned around and stared at him. "I-in a brotherly way, of course," Arthur added hastily, a blush blooming on his face. Alfred still looked suspicious, but he wheeled himself back to his desk.

"Well, I'm glad."

Arthur sighed. Now that he had admitted his feelings to himself, it was only a matter of time before Alfred found out the full extent of them.

* * *

**Woohoo this chapter I'm feeling pretty alright with. In fact, I have become confident enough in my writing that, for this chapters and all others following it, I'm ready to get some ~*~constructive criticism~*~**

**So few of you lovelies reviewed! DDDDDDDDDDDDDD: Thank you to hi and mochiusagi for reviewing, and thank you to pikachucrazy23, Eng-chan, venikle, Suzie Loux, Moonlit dark, GeenieMac, and swirlygirl123 for following! Hugs and cookies for all of you!**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: For once, I have a legitimate reason for not updating for so long, and that is because I was in a power outage because of stupid Hurricane Sandy. Besides, it wasn't even too long. You guys survived the wait okay, right? Also, for you East Coast Americans, y'all alright? That hurricane was pretty bad. Did you get power back and stuff? No one hurt?**

**I don't own Hetalia. I am simply not worthy of the awesome responsibility.**

* * *

The sunlight was streaming through the window when Alfred woke up, hunched over his desk. His glasses were lying neatly folded beside his head. Alfred picked them up and put them on, wondering vaguely how they had gotten there.

"Good morning," a voice said from behind him. Alfred jumped, swiveling his spinny chair around to face the bush-browed source of the noise.

"Oh, it's just you. You scared me," Alfred laughed sheepishly.

"Thought I was an evil ghost coming to eat you again?"

Alfred grimaced. "What time is it?"

"It's Friday, one o'clock."

"Woah… I slept for a long time."

"Well, you did stay up until four in the morning," Arthur smiled.

"Did I finish the last panel?"

Arthur nodded. "This shall be your best issue yet. In my humble opinion, of course."

Alfred beamed. "Awesome! Oh, hey, so I had an idea. So you know how Todd came by the other day?" Arthur nodded. "Right, so Todd thought my house was a comic book store."

"Not surprising. You have memorabilia strewn everywhere."

"Well, I was thinking that I should convert the downstairs area into an actual comic book store. Once I get better 'n stuff."

Arthur blinked. "That's going to cost money."

Alfred frowned. "Well… Well what about after I get fabulously rich and famous?"

Arthur sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Let's worry about paying your hospital bills first, hmm?"

"Ugh, fine. You're such a buzzkill."

Alfred thought he saw Arthur's face flash with hurt for a moment, but figured that he had just imagined it. Still, he didn't want to lose another friend so soon after losing the first. "Hey, I didn't mean it," Alfred apologized. "It was a stupid thing to say."

"It was, but it's fine." Arthur paused. "You need to learn to think before you speak."

"I do know how!" Alfred protested. "I just…don't."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "And you wonder why Alice left you."

"Okay, I deserved that one." _It still hurt, though._

"Hungry, Alfred?"

"Starved."

"I'll get you something, then."

* * *

"Alfred, whatever happened to your family?"

Alfred munched slowly on his pizza, then swallowed, eyes trained on Arthur.

"Sorry if I'm imposing. I just thought it was strange that you lived alone."

"It's been eight months since we met. I was wondering when you would notice." Alfred put his pizza slice down.

"So, yeah, you're right. I used to have a family and shit. A pretty rich family to boot. We lived in a sweet penthouse, and my dad owned an airplane, and we had a huge balcony with a pool in it. I lived with my mom, my dad, their UPPs, and my twin brother. Life was pretty fantastic.

"When I was six, around midwinter, we decided to take a trip to the Great Lakes in my dad's plan." Alfred smiled fondly, remembering each detail of the flight. "I loved the entire flight ride there. I spent the whole day in the cockpit with my dad, pretending to be the copilot. While my brother and mom were in the bedroom watching cartoons, my dad was teaching me how to fly."

"That sounds beautiful," Arthur breathed.

Alfred nodded. "Especially during sunrise. I stayed up the entire night with my dad just so I could see it. You wouldn't believe how many more colors you can see when you're up in the sky."

"Mm." Arthur seemed content to imagine the picturesque scene for a while, so Alfred took the time to figure out how he would continue. He realized that Arthur's eyes were the exact shade of the plains during his trip. The same plains that had broken his fall.

"Alright, I can see it clearly now," Arthur said. Alfred nodded.

"Right, so, anyway. We stayed in a cabin for two weeks, right by the edge of Lake Superior. My twin, Matthew, really liked hockey, so Dad taught us how to play. We skated right across the lake one day." Alfred grinned. "Matt and I made it all the way to the other side of the lake and back. It took nearly the whole day, but it was great. Granted, we probably went in an arch and made the trip shorter, but we did it."

"Did you and your brother get along?"

Alfred nodded. "We were always together and didn't fight very much."

"How lovely…"

"Mmhmm. Anyway, after two weeks we piled into the plane again to go home." Alfred paused. "It happened while we were over Lake Erie."

"The engines failed. We started falling out of the sky. Dad threw Matt out, then me. He and Mom never jumped."

"How did you survive?" Arthur asked, eyes wide.

"We weren't very high up when we jumped. Dad knew what he was doing. He was good at math. He and Mom were scientists."

"So then where is your brother now?"

Alfred took a deep breath, unsure if he could continue. It still plagued his darkest nightmares.

"Alfred?"

"He fell into the lake. He hit weak ice and fell into the water. I fell onto a bush and broke my arm. It took me an hour to find Matthew. By then, he had dragged himself onto shore, but he already had hypothermia," Alfred continued. He spoke quickly, trying not to dwell on his words. His voice had grown soft as if he was trying to keep himself from hearing what he was saying. "I carried him into a cave and tried to build a fire, but six-year-old me with a busted arm could only make a little smoke. I left to try to find some drier wood. When I came back, I saw a bear leaving the clearing where the cave was." Alfred took a shaky breath, summoning all of his courage to continue. "The bear was white. Maybe it was a polar bear, maybe it was a grizzly with snow all over it. I don't know. I know that its paws were red. Of course, I dropped what little wood I had and ran into the cave. Matt was…"

"Oh, god," Arthur gasped, pulling Alfred into a tight hug. "I'm so, so sorry. You don't have to continue if you don't want to."

Alfred leaned gently into the embrace. "I have to finish. I want to."

Arthur nodded. "Alright. But take your time if you need to."

Alfred closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, composing himself while Arthur rubbed his arm softly. He didn't feel like crying. He felt like his physical body was falling apart. "I buried Matt by the cave. Didn't want the bear to come back and eat him or something. Then, I set out to find civilization. It took five of the worst days of my life to find a town. I nearly died, but I made it. After the townspeople fixed my arm and treated me for shock, I was sent to an orphanage, where I stayed until I was sixteen. At that point, I ran away. I had still kept in touch with my childhood friends Ludwig and Kiku, so I ran away to them. I got a job and borrowed some cash, and I bought this house. And here I am."

"Wait, I don't understand," Arthur said. "What happened to all the money your parents had?"

Alfred smiled wanly. "Like I said earlier, my parents were scientists. That's how they got rich. They made it so that I couldn't get a hold of the money until I solved a puzzle."

"And you haven't solved it?"

"If I had, I would own Marvel. It's not so simple as just an ordinary puzzle. I got half of it. Matt got the other half."

"And he never told you his half…"

"That's right.."

"Well, can I at least hear your half? I might be able to glean something from it."

"Sure." Alfred took a moment to remember it. "'It needs what the other creates what it needs.' That's my half."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Exactly."

Arthur sighed. "How frustrating that must be."

"It's mostly depressing, actually. Alright, I need something to cheer me up from all this sad. What was your life like?"

"I'd rather not say."

Alfred pouted. "C'mon, Art. It'll cheer me up. It's only fair."

"Life isn't fair."

"I am extremely aware of that. Please? For me?"

Arthur sighed. "_Fine_. If you must know, my life was wonderfully uneventful. I was born into a middle-class English family in Southampton, I had horrible siblings whom I hated, I moved to London when I graduated university, I wrote books, I got cancer and died. The end."

"Wow, that's boring. Didn't you get married or something? I mean, your books were all about love and sappy stuff. Didn't you have any of that?"

"The only love I had was for literature."

"Everybody has at least a crush!" Alfred pressed. "Even someone as stuffy as you."

Arthur released Alfred and stared at him. "I am not stuffy."

"Artie…"

"Alright, there was _one_ person, but they didn't even know who I was. I saw them all of one time."

"What were they like?"

"No. You've wheedled enough information out of me." Arthur crossed his arms, looking supremely uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. Alfred decided to leave Arthur alone for now.

"Fine. I'll drop it."

"Thank you."

Alfred's mind, however, didn't drop it. Thinking about Arthur's life was a good way to keep from thinking about his own. He picked up his pizza slice, now cold, and pondered ways to get information out of Arthur.

* * *

**Yay for backstories! I love backstories. Especially depressing ones.**

**So a bit more information about my current situation. I lost power for a week. I got wifi back five days ago. Since then, I have joined NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, it's really great you guys should join it next time around) and have finally, FINALLY, gotten started on writing a story that has been in my mind for half a year. I'm afraid NaNoWriMo takes precedence over Structure - sorry guys! Nothing against you, it's just... A novel, you know? That I can publish? So this is mooooooooooooost likely going to be the last update for this month. After November, when I hopefully have a novel written, I can get back on track with this. I might update later in the month. Maybe. Also, if I don't report to you a completed novel by the end of the month, feel free to shame me forever.**

**I also have a fab idea for a Cardverse story to write after this one. Tell me if that interests you. I'll probably start writing it after New Year's, depending on how long this baby takes.**

**Thank you to the wonderful people who reviewed! You warm my heart. Thank you very much to mochiusagi, Eurlenette, and Leprechon for your reviews on Chapter Six, and thank you so much to Ayamari Uta for reviewing on EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER! Wooooooh! Cookies for all of you!**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Woohoo finally an update! I am pleased to inform you all that I am a winner of NaNoWriMo. Yay! With some luck, my novel will be available for purchase via Kindle in February.**

**Now that my shameless self-advertisement is over, enjoy this chapter. If any of you guys listen to Sound Of The Aviators, I suggest you listen to Reflections of a Dream, Part 2 while reading.**

**I don't own Hetalia. I can't hope to withstand such an awesome responsibility.**

* * *

Arthur paced outside of the hospital room, biting his lip with worry. The doctor had said Alfred's checkup would only take a few minutes, like last time.

It had been three hours.

There was something wrong. Obviously. But it wasn't something small. There was something absolutely, hugely wrong with Alfred's lungs, something so wrong that it was taking the doctor three hours to figure out what it was. If Alfred died…

…Well, there would be quite a few problems if Alfred died. Arthur didn't want to dwell on that.

Arthur continued walking, his footsteps making no noise on the linoleum floor of the hospital. He decided that he needed some fresh air (what a joke, seeing as he didn't breathe), and he walked over to an open window at the end of the hallway. Outside, the sun was shining brightly without a care in the world. This February was bringing little snow, but what flakes did grace the trees glimmered like stars, capturing Arthur's attention. From the fourth floor, he was able to see much of the city, with the skyscrapers to the east and the small houses to the west.

Arthur smiled. It truly was lovely to look at, and the beauty of the outdoors brightened his mood, if only for the time being. Surely nothing terrible could happen on a beautiful day like this. All would be well.

Arthur spun around when he heard a door opening behind him. He rushed to the doctor when he saw him stepping out of Alfred's room. "Well? What's the diagnosis?"

The doctor rubbed the back of his head nervously. "Well… We're not quite sure yet, to be honest," he admitted. "It could be one of a few things, really. We need more time to observe his behavior. However, he's been fighting tooth-and-nail to get out of the hospital and get back to making comic books. It really looks like he loves doing that."

"Yes. It's his whole life," Arthur confirmed. "Nevertheless, if Alfred needs to stay here longer, I'm sure it could be arranged. I'll convince him to stay."

The doctor shook his head. "It's alright. He can leave if he wants to. I'd just like to ask you a favor."

Arthur's eyebrows raised curiously. "Yes?"

"Keep track of his symptoms. Be sure to record if he coughs a lot, has any chest discomfort, exhaustion, and a loss of appetite. If he starts losing weight, bring him in and we'll check him out again."

Arthur nodded. "Of course. Thank you, doctor."

"Don't mention it. Alfred'll be out in a minute." He walked into another ward, leaving Arthur to his thoughts.

_Nothing that the doctor mentioned could mean anything good. And Alfred _has_ been more tired lately… It's probably just because he's been staying up late to work on his comic books, though. I'll make sure he gets to bed at a more sane time from now on._

Arthur frowned when he heard an odd sound originating from Alfred's room. He didn't wonder what it was for long, however, because Alfred stepped out and revealed the source of the noise: crutches.

"Hey, Art!" Alfred smiled sunnily. "I'm out of my wheelchair!"

"I can see that. Congratulations."

"Heheh, thanks! Pretty cool, huh?"

"Yes, yes, very cool. You seem to have grasped how to work those things rather easily," Arthur pointed out.

"Well, I already knew how to use them."

"Ah. I see." Arthur didn't press further, certain that Alfred had learned how to use crutches when he had broken his leg after the fateful plane crash.

"So, time to go home, right?"

Arthur stared. "Aren't you hungry?"

"We can eat at home, right? Your food isn't that bad, you know."

Arthur flushed, flattered by the semi-compliment. "Oh, er, thank you. Most people don't like my cooking."

"I dunno why. It's at least four star material, in my opinion." Alfred grinned at Arthur, eyes shining brightly without a care in the world. It wasn't the glow of the smile that melted Arthur's heart, nor was it the beautiful blue of Alfred's eyes, which were a gateway to the heavens. It was the fact that Alfred could keep smiling like this, after all that he had been through, that Arthur loved. And it was at that moment that Arthur fell irreversibly in love with him.

* * *

Arthur sat in the corner of the room, leafing through a random book, the world at his fingertips lit up by a small lamp beside his armchair. Alfred's quiet, euphonious snores reverberated through the room, a constant presence that felt almost like a friend to Arthur in the loneliness of the night.

The Briton was honestly exhausted by the constant nagging at the back of his mind, especially now that he had gone past the point of no return. Arthur's disgust with himself was poisoning his waking hours, and since he couldn't sleep he was always being chased by horrible thoughts.

_How _dare _you fall in love with him? How _dare_ you selfishly try to ruin his life like this? You're dead, for god's sake! You're a dead man in love with a living one, and you want so desperately for him to love you, too. Admit it. You want him to kiss you, to stay awake with you at night while you try to share his sleep. To hold each other, and watch the moon rise, and…_

Arthur shook his head, scattering the poisonous thoughts from his mind. "You are not allowed to turn his life into more of a tragedy than it already is, Arthur," he whispered to himself. "Face the truth and forget these feelings already. If you love him, let him go."

Arthur leaned back in his chair, massaging his temple. When he felt calm enough, he replaced the book on the shelf and walked into Alfred's living room, turning on the sound system and scrolling through the songs. He paused at one and turned it on.

Arthur smiled, the gentle melody enveloping him. The notes hung in the air, lifting Arthur out of his prison built by his thoughts. He swayed lightly along with the music, slowly twirling in an invisible waltz with an invisible man, humming softly. Back and forth, step here, then there, then a twirl and a bow. Arthur found himself laughing lightly, enraptured by this fanciful dream around him.

He grinned up at a face he imaged that stood a few centimeters taller than him, a face with lightly tanned skin and dark blond hair and stunningly blue eyes that resembled…the sky…

Arthur's fantasy fell apart around him when he realized that he had been waltzing with an imaginary Alfred. There was no longer any way for him to escape his feelings. There was no way to save himself or Alfred from what was to come.

Arthur fell apart alone in the darkness of the living room, the notes of the waltz no longer a comfort, but a horror from which he could not flee.

* * *

**AN: Well, so there's your chapter. The plot thickens. Sort of.**

**I have a pretty cool idea for a Cardverse fic, so if anyone is interest, feel free to say so! Hopefully this fanfic will be done in a month or two, so my writing schedule will be mostly clear for a new fanfiction. And that is all! Thank you to Leprechon for reviewing! Cookies for you!**


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